Houseguest
by superlc529
Summary: Pipes burst at the Hanson household. Hanson has no place to stay. In steps Henry and now he has a houseguest. What sort of things could come to light with Hanson living in the Morgan household?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I don't own Forever… I'd have thought that obvious. So in response to the 'Big Reveal Ficathon' I've come up with this idea with Hanson. I hope you guys like it… Enjoy!

Houseguest

Raindrops fell steadily on the ground below. Water melded together with red in a dark alley in New York. Blood ran down the forehead of a lawyer. Empty pockets – another robbery gone wrong in the Big Apple; or was it something more?

* * *

"Cause of death, gunshot to the head," Henry Morgan stated as he stood up from the victim.

"Thanks, Doc," Hanson deadpanned, "I think _we_ could've even figured that one out."

"His wallet and ID are missing," Jo observed, "Probably just a mugging that went wrong."

"What was a guy like this doing in this part of town?" Lucas wondered, holding his clipboard to his chest, "He looks like one of those guys on Wall Street."

"Once we figure out who he is, we might be able to answer that question," Jo said and turned to Henry, "Do you see anything else aside from the obvious?"

Henry knelt back down to the victim and tilted his head to the side, taking in every detail, "The gunshot looks to be a 9mm. Our victim was in his mid-thirties, I'd say… well-tailored suit, probably a high-paying job and well-respected."

"Could say the same thing about you, Doc," Hanson gestured to his suit.

Henry spared a second to give the detective a side-glare. It wasn't the first time his wardrobe was pointed out to him. He happened to come from a time when men always (at least attempted) to dress their best.

He gently picked up the victim's hand, "Look at his knuckles."

"What about them?" Jo leaned forward trying to garner a closer look.

"They're stiff," Henry started.

"That could have to do with the fact that the guy's dead," Hanson remarked.

"Not what I mean, Hanson," Henry gestured once again with the victim's hand, "His knuckles are stiff as if he was holding on to something for dear life… before it was ripped from him. A briefcase perhaps?"

"We'll get unis to canvas the area," Jo patted his shoulder as Henry stood up, "See if they can find anything… with any luck, our killer could've dumped the vic's wallet nearby or whatever else he took from him."

"A gold wristwatch for one," Henry said. At Jo's furrowed brows, Henry elaborated, "There's a tan line on his wrist where a watch was probably worn."

"Why do you think it was gold?" Lucas joined in the conversation.

"High-paid man… what else would he have?" Henry shrugged.

"You done Sherlocking here, Doc?" Hanson gestured to the crime scene.

"Here, yes. I'll know more once Lucas and I get him back to the lab," Henry nodded.

* * *

Henry and Lucas worked rhythmically as they performed an autopsy on their latest case. Upstairs in the bullpen, Jo and Mike did their magic on their side, gathering information on the victim.

"Got an ID on the vic," Hanson held up a picture of the man lying on the table as he and Jo entered the morgue.

"His name is Harrison Morton," Jo continued off of her partner's lead-in, "You were right, Henry. He had a high-paying job. A lawyer… and a damn good one at that, we got a hit when a coworker of his at his firm called in worried when he didn't show up to work this morning."

"Figured as much," Henry nodded, "We found enough remnants of paper cuts on his hand. I thought it was a job with a lot of paperwork."

"Find anything else interesting?" Jo asked.

"The rain from last night washed away a lot. I pegged his time of death to be between nine pm and midnight," Henry began, "But I was right about the briefcase. There are light bruises on Harrison's legs where the briefcase hit the sides of them as he was walking. Whatever was in it was heavy. Did it turn up?"

"Not yet," Hanson shook his head. He stifled a yawn and continued, "No luck on his wallet either."

"You all right, Mike?" Jo asked.

"Just tired," Hanson shrugged, "Was up late last night on the phone. Our pipes burst last night. Flooded everything… Karen took the boys on an impromptu vacation to go visit her mother while it's getting fixed. I had to stay at a motel. Don't know how many more nights I can take of it."

"How long is it going to take to fix?" Lucas asked.

"They're not sure," Hanson was clearly tired, "They think at least a couple of weeks, a month tops."

Hanson let out another yawn, this time un-stifled.

"Well, I'd offer you my couch, but I don't think you'd be very comfortable on it for that long," Lucas offered.

"I'd let you stay in my guest room if I didn't turn it into an office after Sean died," Jo looked apologetic.

Jo, Lucas and Hanson turned to Henry. Getting the idea, albeit a bit hesitantly, Henry spoke up, "I suppose, if you like you could stay with Abraham and I for a bit? It'd be much more comfortable than a motel… and easier on the wallet."

Hanson looked hopeful for a brief second before he let out a huge sigh, "Nah, Doc… I couldn't do that to you and your roommate."

"It wouldn't be trouble, Detective," Henry assured him, feeling a bit guilty. He had the means to help out a friend.

"Hey, take it," Jo nudged Hanson, "Abe's a great cook… and Henry lives closer to the precinct. You wouldn't have as far to commute."

"As long as you truly don't mind," Hanson looked like he was caving in to the idea.

"I'll phone Abe and let him know you're coming," Henry smiled and went off to his office to call his son and let him know they were going to have a houseguest for a little bit.

* * *

"You know, when you called earlier and said that we were going to have a houseguest, I thought it'd be Jo," Abe commented as he laid out another pillow on the bed of their guest room.

Henry gave his son a look.

"Not like that, Dad," Abe smirked, "I'm just saying, it's real nice of you to offer a place to stay to Detective Hanson while his house is being fixed."

"Yes, well, everyone else was offering him a place to stay," Henry explained, "And Hanson has become a friend over the past year. Plus, it's only for a couple weeks. I already finished putting away all my death journals and any photos that would be hard to explain."

"Right, well, I better get started on dinner," Abe followed Henry out of the room and into the kitchen.

The phone rang and Henry answered, "Hello?"

" _You really need to get a cell phone, Henry," Hanson commented, "I'm downstairs in front of the shop. The door is locked and the sign says closed."_

"Oh, sorry," Henry apologized, "I'll be right down."

* * *

"Something smells good," Hanson lugged his bags through the door.

"Abe just started cooking dinner," Henry wordlessly took one of Hanson's bags to help.

"Thanks," Hanson followed Henry further into the store and upstairs to the apartment.

"Hey, welcome, Detective Hanson," Abe looked over his shoulder to see Henry and Hanson make their way toward him. They had set Hanson's bags in the guest room already.

"Mike's fine," Hanson waved, "I really appreciate you guys letting me crash here while I'm getting my pipes in my house fixed."

"Eh, it's not a problem," Abe waved the wooden spoon in an 'it's-no-big-deal' manner.

"So, what's cooking?" Hanson asked as he took a seat at the table.

"Something simple," Abe shrugged, "Spaghetti and meatballs."

"It smells delicious as always, Abraham," Henry put his hand on his son's shoulder as he looked over the pot, letting the savory aroma enter his senses.

"Hope you're hungry, Mike," Abe put the top of the pan over the sauce to let it cook a little while longer.

"All I've had today has been coffee and a turkey sandwich," Hanson replied, "A good home-cooked meal is just what I need."

"I'm sure you get that when your wife cooks though, right?" Henry took a seat next to Hanson.

"Yeah, on some nights," Hanson shifted in his seat, "But after all day with the boys… sometimes we just get Chinese takeout or pizza."

"The quintessential New York family dinner," Abe said, "Or so I've heard… I've been more accustomed to cooking."

"I'm sure it'll be great," Hanson smiled, "Jo's had nothing but praise for your cooking."

"Learned everything from my mom," Abe got up once again to stir the sauce and get started on the noodles.

"I'd like to think your father had a hand in your culinary skills as well," Henry added.

"Meh," Abe shrugged as Henry shot a glare at his son's back. He knew he said that on purpose.

Henry decided to change the subject and turned to Hanson, "Any new developments on our victim, Detective?"

"Well, we're dealing with a bunch of lawyers and you know how they can be," Hanson folded his arms, "They're not giving us anything without a warrant."

"You'd think with one of their own murdered, they'd be more cooperative," Abe was almost done with the noodles.

"Yeah, you'd think so, but I think it's encoded in their DNA to be difficult," Hanson remarked. He turned to Henry, "Anything else pop in your autopsy that we need to know about, Doc?"

"Nothing too pertinent," Henry shook his head, "The gunshot to the head seemed to be at fairly close range, but not pressed against the skin."

"Robbery gone wrong?" Abe grabbed Hanson's plate and started to fill it.

"Right now that's what it looks like, but who knows?" Hanson put a hand up to let Abe know that was enough spaghetti on his plate.

"Nothing was out of the ordinary during the autopsy," Henry helped himself to parmesan cheese as Abe took a seat to join the two men at the table, their plates full, "His stomach contents…"

"Ah!" Hanson yelled out with his hand up, "No stomach contents talk while we're eating, Henry. The only stomach contents I'm worried about right now is what's going in mine."

"Yeah, no more death talk at the dinner table, Henry," Abe agreed.

"I bet you have to say that a lot, huh, Abe?" Hanson smirked.

"You have no idea," Abe shook his head with a small smile.

* * *

 _One week later…_

"How's Henry faring as a roommate?" Jo took a sip from her coffee. She stayed in step with Hanson as they made their way to the new crime scene.

"Still the same quirky Henry we all know and yet a little more relaxed," Hanson replied as he lifted the crime scene tape for Jo.

"I'd have thought you and him would've arrived together," Jo ducked under the tape, "We both got the call at the same time."

"Henry refused to just have coffee and a bear claw for breakfast," Hanson explained, "He had to sit at the table and have toast and eggs… a proper breakfast, he said."

"Abe cook it?" Jo asked.

"Yeah. You were right, Jo. His cooking is amazing," Hanson took a sip of his own coffee, "I was half tempted to stay and have some eggs, but I had to get over to my house to sign some paperwork."

"How's that going anyway?" Jo asked as they neared the body.

"Okay… they think it'll take at least another week or two to completely finish," Hanson sighed.

"Well, Abraham and I don't mind," Henry's voice appeared behind the two detectives, "You're welcome to stay as long as you like, Hanson."

"Still very much appreciated," Hanson nodded and then gestured to the body on the lawn, "Looks like another robbery gone wrong."

"Yeah, it almost looks exactly like our as-of-yet-unsolved lawyer murder," Jo agreed.

"Same cause of death," Henry squatted down, "And I'd wager her time of death would most likely be around the same time."

"Her name's Harriet Montoya," Jo read off of her notes, "She's a doctor on the Upper East side. She still had her ID on her, but that was just her hospital ID. Her purse and wallet were missing."

"These can't just be robberies gone wrong," Henry shook his head as he stood up, "Two murders within a week of each other with the same cause of death under very similar circumstances… the only difference of Harriet being in a park and Harrison in an alley."

"All of Harrison's coworkers, friends, and family's alibis all checked out," Hanson listed on his fingers, "And we went over his financials and call history about a hundred times. Nothing popped out as fishy."

"We even found that briefcase you mentioned," Jo continued, "All that was in it were case files… pro bono and nothing out of the ordinary. The reason he probably held so tightly to it to the point his knuckles were stiff was because according to his colleagues, being a lawyer was his life."

"There's something here," Henry wasn't convinced, "We just have to find it."

* * *

"Tell Jo and Hanson to be on the lookout for yet another watch," Henry placed Harriet's hand back down on the slab.

"Another tan line?" Lucas peered over the body to get a look.

"No, just an impression," Henry gestured to her wrist, "Like she wore it very often."

"Well, that's another connection between our two victims," Lucas commented as he wrote down more of Henry's notes.

"These two murders are too alike to not be related," Henry shook his head.

"Yeah," Lucas agreed, "That and their initials."

"Initials?" Henry looked up at his assistant.

"Both of their initials were HM," Lucas nodded, "You didn't notice that?"

"Actually no," Henry's eyebrows went up.

"Wow. Your observational skills must be rubbing off on me," Lucas looked proud of himself.

"What's rubbing off on you?" Hanson asked as he and Jo came up to the two medical examiners.

"Lucas noticed another connection to the two victims that I hadn't," Henry answered.

"Good job, Lucas," Jo looked just as proud as Lucas felt.

"Thank you," Lucas smiled.

"What was it?" Jo prodded.

"Oh… yeah, uh, both of our victims had the initials of HM," Lucas said as Henry continued, "And she's also missing a watch."

"Strange connection but weirder things have happened in this city," Jo remarked.

"Maybe there's a serial killer out there killing people with those initials," Lucas theorized.

"Or it could just be a coincidence," Hanson shook his head, "Plenty of people in this town… their initials being the same could just be a coincidence."

"Anything else interesting pop up during the autopsy?" Jo looked to Henry.

"Unfortunately not," Henry sighed, leaning forward on the slab, his palms flat against the surface, "It's remarkable though… the parallels between these two cases. They both were robbed and shot in the head. And they both had watches stolen from them."

"Almost as if the killer is looking for something?" Jo furrowed her brows, trailing off of Henry's thoughts.

"Perhaps," Henry folded his arms, "Did any of Harrison's property turn up?"

"Nada," Jo shook her head, "Well, other than that briefcase. It feels like our killer took more possessions of our vics to cover up their true intentions… maybe the watches."

"Killing someone over a watch? That's pretty extreme," Hanson looked down at the victim with sadness in his eyes. The acts people could do to one another.

"Sadly, people have killed for less," Henry agreed.

"Hanson and I were going to head over to the hospital and see if we can't get more information on Harriet," Jo gave Henry an invitation without actually asking.

"I'll get my scarf," Henry snapped off his gloves.

* * *

"Well these doctors are already being more cooperative than the lawyers," Hanson stated as he walked around the office they were directed into once they inquired about their latest victim.

"That surprises you?" Henry lifted an eyebrow, "We doctors all try to help people."

"Just observing, Doc," Hanson answered.

"Sorry about the wait," a young blonde woman entered the office, her heels clicking against the tiled floor before taking a seat in front of the trio.

"Not a problem," Jo assured her, "We appreciate you taking the time to see us, Doctor Taylor."

Doctor Taylor nodded and folded her hands on the desk, "How can I help you? We were all shocked to learn about Harriet's death."

"Had Doctor Montoya been acting out of the ordinary lately?" Jo started the interview.

"Nothing that I can think of," Taylor shook her head.

"Any disagreements with anyone?" Hanson continued.

"No…," Taylor dragged out as if she was second guessing herself as she answered.

"There was a disagreement?" Jo picked up on her indecisiveness.

"I don't know if it could be classified as a disagreement," Taylor looked hesitant.

"Anything you say could help us find her killer," Henry joined the conversation.

"It was a guy," Taylor started. At the three identical expressions directed her way, she immediately elaborated, "Not like that… it was with this appraiser."

"Appraiser?" Hanson stepped forward, almost leaning on the chair where Jo sat.

"She had this watch that she'd never take off," Taylor began. Hanson, Henry and Jo all shared a look as Taylor continued, "Harriet didn't even take it off for surgeries. Despite hospital policies of removing jewelry before performing an operation… she'd cover it with her gloves. We ended up allowing it. The watch had sentimental value."

"Doctor Montoya was getting her watch appraised?" Henry tilted his head to the side.

"That's what she told me when I saw her arguing with this guy," Taylor shrugged her shoulders, "I heard them arguing about the watch and something about its authenticity."

"If it was so important to her, why would she get it appraised?" Hanson wondered, "It's not like she was exactly poor."

"Not all doctors are super rich, Detective," Taylor countered.

"Do you think it really was an appraiser?" Jo wasn't buying it.

"Not really, but I didn't press," Taylor shook her head, "Maybe I should have."

"Did she give you a name?" Jo asked.

"No, I'm sorry," Taylor sighed.

"Would you be willing to work with a sketch artist? It's our most promising lead," Jo stood up.

"Anything to help," Taylor also stood up.

"Come to the station when you get off work and we'll get you with one," Jo shook her hand. Henry and Hanson exchanged handshakes with Dr. Taylor and followed Jo out of the office.

"I knew there was something about the watch. It couldn't have just been a coincidence," Henry walked in tandem with Jo and Hanson out of the hospital with himself in the middle and either detective on each of his sides.

"You think we might just have our killer?" Hanson asked.

"We can hope," Henry replied.

The brief moment of silence was broken when Hanson's phone went off. After a very short conversation, Hanson looked to his partners, "Hey, guys… sorry, I got to take off. More stuff going on at my house. I guess I must've signed something wrong this morning."

"Go," Jo waved him off, "We can handle it."

"See you guys later," Hanson waved and headed off in the opposite direction.

* * *

Hours passed and one worn out detective made his way into _Abe's Antiques_. There was only so much stress one person could take before they were physically and emotionally wiped out. Hanson waved a greeting to Abe who was talking with a customer. He made his way up the stairs and eventually found himself collapsed into bed.

"Rough day at work?" Abe stood in the threshold of the guest bedroom, now Hanson's room.

"Rough day at home," Hanson's muffled reply came as he was talking into his pillow.

"It must've been," Abe remarked, "Henry isn't even home yet."

Hanson lifted his head off the pillow and looked in Abe's direction, "What time is it?"

"About half past nine," Abe replied after looking at his watch, "I just closed up shop."

"Is Henry ever this late coming home?" Hanson was now sitting completely up – a bit of worry etched across his face.

"He's come home later before," Abe shrugged it off, "Why? Is something wrong?"

Hanson let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head, "Nah… just my cop brain working overtime piling on to everything that's going on with my pipes getting fixed and the house drying out from all the water damage the exploded pipes caused."

"Everything will work out, Mike," Abe turned out the lights for the detective, "Get some sleep."

"Thanks," Hanson kicked off his shoes and laid back, "'Night, Abe."

"Goodnight," Abe closed the door.

* * *

Hanson slowly opened his eyes to the darkness of the room. The strange bed still took a little bit of time of getting used to, even after a week of living with Henry. He slowly pushed himself off the bed and went into the kitchen to get a drink of water. Reaching up for a glass, he accidentally knocked another one over resulting with a resounding crash.

"Shit," Hanson cursed. Grabbing some paper towel, he knelt down to clean up the glass as much as he could and toss them in the garbage.

As Hanson was kneeling down, Abe and Henry entered the room.

"You're awfully quiet, Henry," Abe turned back to his father, throwing his keys on the kitchen counter.

Hanson stayed knelt down. He knew the right thing would be to stand up and let them know he was there, but he just couldn't bring himself to do so – that glass he broke looked expensive. After all they had done for him; he didn't want to face any wrath for breaking a glass. Rationally, he knew they wouldn't be mad, but he was mad at himself. So, he took the lesser of two evils and stayed put.

"Not so loud, Abe," Henry reprimanded, "Hanson's trying to sleep."

"The guy's exhausted," Abe waved him off, "You should've seen him when I closed up the store; he was practically asleep when I was talking to him."

Hanson now felt even guiltier for eavesdropping, but now he'd be caught if he got up and that would be even more awkward.

"You haven't said anything since I picked you up from the river," Abe folded his arms.

The river? Was Henry skinny dipping again?

"It was the killer, Abraham," Henry confessed.

"What killer?" Abe wasn't following.

"The killer we've been after," Henry elaborated, "The one who killed our two victims the lawyer and the doctor."

Hanson's eyes widened and started to stand up, embarrassment be damned, until Henry's next words stopped him.

"He shot me clear through the head, just like the other two," Henry walked further into the room and leaned on the kitchen island.

Slowly crawling out from behind the island, Hanson peered around to see the two men. Henry was barefoot and dressed like he had at the precinct after his skinny dipping episode, but he had a towel around his shoulders. He looked wet. What the hell was he talking about?

"You mean you were the third victim?" Abe understood.

"Yes," Henry nodded, "I even fit the profile that Lucas thought of… my initials _are_ HM. And I think my watch is missing too."

"Your watch? You mean the one your father gave you?" Abe asked and Henry nodded. "Are you sure that it just wasn't on you when you died and the thing disappeared too?"

"No," Henry started to pace now, his bare feet softly slapping against the hardwood floor, "No, he took it. I wasn't dead the instant the bullet went through my head, believe it or not. I was still partially conscious and I felt him go through my pockets and take it."

"Well, now you know who the killer is! You can tell Jo… or Hanson," Abe yelled and then lowered his voice.

Hanson still watched from his position on the floor. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. What the hell was going on here?

"And how do you propose I tell them, Abe?" Henry felt like he was in between a rock and a hard place, "Tell them the killer is the man in the sketch Dr. Taylor provided us? That after Jo and I talked to him, he must've seen me looking at my pocket watch and as I was walking home, he shot me in the head? And stole my watch? That'll go over really well."

"You have to say something, Henry," Abe calmly replied, "That killer is still out there."

"I'll try to figure something out," Henry looked defeated, "Now, if you'll excuse me, Abraham. After getting murdered, a man deserves a rest."

"Right," Abe agreed, "Goodnight, Henry."

"Goodnight, Abraham," Henry sighed as he pushed himself off of the kitchen island before heading to his room for the night.

After hearing the clicks of both Henry and Abe's doors shutting, Hanson finally stood up. What the hell just happened? They were talking about Henry being killed like it was an everyday occurrence. Were they just putting him on? Did they know he was there and they were just messing with his head?

Unlikely.

If they weren't putting him on… then Henry was really killed that night and was living to tell the tale. How the hell was that even possible? Should he tell Henry he was listening? What would Henry even say? One thing was for certain.

Hanson wasn't getting any more sleep tonight.

* * *

A/N: Yay? No? I hope you guys are enjoying it so far. Don't worry, I'm just about ready to upload the rest of the story. Let me know what you guys think. :)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Nope. Still don't own Forever… I hope you enjoy the rest of what I came up with for the 'Big Reveal Ficathon.'

* * *

"Hanson, are you all right?" Henry's words brought Hanson back to reality. He had been staring into space for a few minutes straight.

"Huh? Oh yeah…I'm okay, Doc," Hanson replied absentmindedly. He thought he had dreamed the whole thing the previous night. Finding a small shard of glass on the kitchen floor tossed that theory out the window.

"Abraham said you were exhausted last night," Henry continued to make conversation, "Everything okay at home? The repairs going smoothly?"

Hanson continued to stare into space.

"Hanson?" Henry was growing concerned. He waved a hand in front of Hanson's face, "Mike?"

Shaking his head with widened eyes, Hanson focused on Henry without really seeing him. His thoughts were racing with what he heard.

"Is there something wrong?" Henry furrowed his brows.

"I…" Hanson started, "I'm just tired."

"Right," Henry wasn't fully buying it, but he'd let it go for now.

"We should get going," Henry stood up and wrapped his scarf around his neck. Hanson looked up at Henry unblinking and it was starting to freak him out. He sat back down and shifted his chair to fully face Hanson, "All right. There's something wrong, Detective. What's going on?"

"Did anything happen after I left you and Jo yesterday?" Hanson rasped out. His eyes met Henry's.

"We went to visit the man from the sketch Dr. Taylor provided us," Henry shrugged, "Speaking of which… I have a gut feeling about him. We should look into him a bit more. I have a feeling he might be our killer."

"A feeling, huh?" Hanson looked down.

Before Henry could open his mouth to respond, Hanson's next words made Henry's heart practically stop, "I heard you last night."

"Heard what?" Henry reverted to his default setting of denying everything.

"I've been going it over and over again in my head," Hanson tapped the side of his head, "My rational mind says that I've gone crazy or you have… the other part, the part that's seen you in action for the better part of a year says that there's got to be some truth to it – as impossible as it sounds."

Henry's Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, "What did you hear?"

"I heard you say that you died last night," Hanson still couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth, "That you were murdered. Our third victim."

"That's ridiculous," Henry stood up.

"Don't patronize me, Doc. I'm not crazy, Henry," Hanson also got up and blocked Henry's path, "And neither are you… Please… Tell me. What. Is. Going. On?"

Another lie was ready at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to spout it. Instead, Henry let out a long defeated sigh, "I was murdered last night."

"How is that possible?" Hanson sat back down as did Henry.

"I promise I'll tell you everything later," Henry promised, "The important thing right now is to catch this killer and put him behind bars."

"So this guy that you and Jo talked to last night is the killer?" Hanson accepted Henry's word. He was right. They had a murderer to catch. That was their priority.

"Yes," Henry nodded, "He must be… I fit the profile he's been after. My initials are HM, I have an old watch and he killed me in the same time window as our other two victims."

"Tell me what happened," Hanson was ready to listen.

"Jo and I went back to the precinct after you left us," Henry began, "I went down to the morgue and she upstairs to her desk. We resumed everything as normal until Dr. Taylor came by to work with the sketch artist. After she was done, Jo came down to my office and we headed off to see the man when there was a hit on his identity: Thomas Fairwell."

"How'd you find out who he was?" Hanson asked.

"He popped up in the system for minor theft about six months ago," Henry explained, "Plus his name even seemed familiar to Jo from Harrison's files."

"So he's connected to both our vics," Hanson nodded and added as an afterthought, " _Three_ vics."

"Yes," Henry leaned further on the table, closer to Hanson, "She saw his name in one of Harrison's cases in that briefcase. Anyway, Jo and I went down to go talk to him…"

* * *

 _The night before…_

Henry and Jo arrived in front of their suspect's door. Jo reached out and knocked three times, "Mr. Fairwell?"

"What?" Thomas bit as he opened the door a crack. The chain to his lock was still connected. He took in Jo and Henry before him.

"My name's Detective Martinez. This is my partner Dr. Morgan. We just have a few questions for you, Mr. Fairwell," Jo revealed her badge attached to her belt and nodded to Henry in introduction.

The door shut and opened again, this time wider to let in the duo. Looking around, it was obvious the man before them had a little obsession with clocks. Of course, saying 'little' would be generous. The walls of his apartment were covered with all sorts of clocks ranging from cuckoo to cats.

"What's this about?" Thomas folded his arms.

"We're investigating the murders of Harrison Morton and Harriet Montoya," Jo tore her eyes from the eyes of a cat clock ticking away, giving her the creeps, to look at him.

"Who?" Thomas shook his head.

"The doctor you spoke to trying to appraise her watch and the lawyer you went to about a few months ago…" Henry said.

"They're dead?" Thomas' eyebrows disappeared behind his fringe.

"I thought you didn't know who they were," Jo tried to catch him in a lie.

"Look, I don't want any trouble," Thomas shook his head and put his hands up in a placating gesture, "Sorry about their deaths, but I have nothing to do with it. I've been trying to go straight after my little shoplifting spree six months ago."

"Is that why you went to Mr. Montoya?" Jo cocked her head to the side, "He was supposed to defend you?"

"He was one of the lawyers the court tried to appoint me. Some pro bono case or something," Thomas shrugged, "I saw him like once. That's why I didn't know who you were talking about."

"What about Dr. Montoya? How did your paths cross?" Henry inquired.

"We shared a passion of time pieces," Thomas explained and gestured to their surroundings, "If you can't tell… I like clocks. The older the better. We met through a forum about antique watches and she wanted to meet. I only knew her by her screen name HMontoya."

"It's funny how two people you've crossed paths with are now dead within a week of each other, Mr. Fairwell," Jo stepped closer to him.

"It's a big city. Coincidences happen," Thomas practically sneered.

"Never ignore coincidences… especially one that big," Henry said from the other end of the room. Neither Jo nor Thomas noticed his movement.

"Hey, get away from that!" Thomas' voice went up when he saw Henry leaning in close to a clock on his mantle.

"Just admiring," Henry replied with his hands clasped behind his back, "It looks to be a genuine antique from 1915."

"Yeah," Thomas' tension eased at Henry's knowledge, "How'd you know that?"

"I dabble in the antiques game," Henry smirked.

"Henry," Jo warned him and turned back to Thomas, "Just tell us where you were between the hours of nine pm and midnight a week ago and last night. Then we'll be out of your hair."

"I was home," Thomas replied.

"Can anyone corroborate that?" Jo wrote it down in her small notepad.

"Just the clocks," Thomas deadpanned as he continued to watch Henry out of the corner of his eye. Henry was looking at his collection of pocket watches lined up on a table by the window.

"Right," Jo gave him a half-hearted smile, "Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Fairwell… Come on, Henry."

"Yes," Henry snapped his own pocket watch shut and put it back in his pocket, "It is getting a little late."

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Fairwell," Henry echoed Jo's statement. He simply nodded in response, his eyes cast in the direction of Henry's pocket. Jo and Henry seemed oblivious to his gaze as they exited his apartment.

"That was uncomfortable," Jo commented as they rode the elevator down to the lobby.

"Indeed," Henry agreed, "With his obsession with clocks and watches, he seems like a good suspect to me… though it might be too obvious."

"Sometimes the obvious is the answer," Jo stepped off the elevator with Henry following, "It is getting kinda late. Do you want a ride home?"

"No thank you, Jo," Henry shook his head, "It's a nice night. I think I'll walk."

"Goodnight, Henry," Jo headed off to her car with a smile.

"Goodnight, Jo," Henry mirrored her smile and walked off in the opposite direction, completely unaware of another pair of eyes on his retreating back.

After a few moments of walking, taking in the beautiful night air, Henry let out a startled yelp of surprise when he felt himself yanked into an alley. As his mouth formed the shape to say Thomas' name, he was face-to-face with the barrel of a 9mm gun. The only thought Henry had time to think of before the gun went off was: _God, I hate getting shot._

The bullet went clean through his head. Henry dropped like a brick to the hard cement. As he breathed his last breath of air before his tunnel vision of memories began, he could've sworn he felt Thomas root through his pockets. The familiar weight of his father's pocket watch left him and in the next moment, he bobbed out of the water of the East River with a gasping breath.

* * *

"Oh, God," Hanson breathed.

"After that, I found a payphone and called Abe with some change a few drunken teens gave me," Henry said, "The rest you know when we got home."

"So this guy is escalating from shoplifting to murder for watches?" Hanson couldn't comprehend it.

"There has to be more to the story than that," Henry agreed, "It's almost as if he was searching for a specific watch. I thought I heard him yell out a small 'Yes' when he took my watch… though my word can't be too reliable. I did have a bullet go through my head at the time."

"Yeah, still not processing that too well, Doc," Hanson remarked.

"Sorry," Henry immediately apologized, "The important thing is that we know we have our killer. But how do we bring him in without alerting him to me being alive? Or without revealing my secret?"

"We'll think of something," Hanson leaned back in his chair.

* * *

"Where have you two been all morning?" Jo asked when she saw Hanson and Henry approach her desk.

"Late night," Henry spun the truth into something believable. Something he did best over the last two centuries, "When I got home last night, Abe wasn't feeling too well and I stayed up with him. Hanson was gracious enough to assist."

"Oh. Hanson's quite the model houseguest, huh?" Jo smirked. Her teasing eyes didn't leave Hanson until he sat across from her at his own desk.

"The best," Henry replied genuinely, "I brought Hanson up to speed on the way over with our meeting with Thomas Fairwell last night."

"Yeah," Jo looked to her other partner, "What do you think about the guy, Hanson?"

"I think he's our guy," Hanson got up from his chair and took to leaning against Jo's desk.

"Just because somebody's creepy doesn't necessarily make them a killer," Jo countered, "We learned that with our first case with Henry."

Jo gave Henry a sarcastic grin which he returned. Hanson broke the look between them, "Yeah, well, trust me, Jo. I've got a gut feeling about this guy. Henry agrees with me."

"Me too, but we have to get more on him," Jo nodded in agreement, "Which is why I spent my morning researching Thomas Fairwell and his "little" obsession with clocks and watches."

"What'd you find?" Hanson asked.

Jo turned to her computer and started clicking to find the right page, "Our tech guys found his screenname and all his posts on this clock forum he mentioned last night."

Henry leaned in on her right side and Hanson on her left. Sandwiched in between her two boys, Jo continued, "Most of his posts were about antique watches… or more specifically pocket watches. He found this story about one that might grant its owner immortality."

"Immortality?" Henry stood up straight. Hanson gave Henry a quick look before Jo swiveled her chair around and got up, "I know, right? Crazy."

"Yeah, crazy," Henry gave an uneasy laugh.

"This story he kept posting about was about the lore of this pocket watch from the early nineteenth century. According to his belief and this story, whoever had this watch would never be able to die," Jo explained, "The only information he was able to garner about the owner of this supposed watch was that their initials were HM… but he didn't know if they were male or female."

"That explains his targets," Hanson folded his arms.

"We better figure out something quick to get this guy," Jo said, "'Cause it's not like we can put protective details of every person in New York with those initials."

"Maybe we can set him up," Hanson started to theorize.

"How do you mean?" Jo asked.

"Henry has those initials," Hanson nodded to said medical examiner.

"Oh no," Jo was immediately against the idea, "No. Henry already has no self-preservation instincts. And we're not putting a friend, let alone a civilian in the line of fire…"

"Henry and I already put a plan into motion this morning," Hanson said.

"And you didn't think to run it by me first?" Jo was offended.

"We knew you wouldn't go for the idea," Henry replied. He and Hanson had finally come up with a plan before coming to work. It was far-fetched but it would keep his secret and bring a murderer to justice.

Jo let out a long sigh, "Fine. What's the plan?"

"We'll fill you in down in my office," Henry smiled akin to that time he announced that he and Jo should gas themselves for the hack-tivist case they had a little while back.

* * *

"You're kidding me," Jo couldn't believe what Hanson and Henry just told her.

"It's perfect, Jo," Hanson tried to convince her.

"I like it," Lucas said. He joined them in Henry's office when he saw them all come down. Hanson and Henry had called him before coming in and told him their plan. They needed his help as well.

"Jo, his behavior at his apartment was jumpy and on edge," Henry began.

"That could have to do with the fact that he's guilty, Henry," Jo returned.

"Based on my observations, and in my professional opinion, he'd be prone to different types of delusions," Henry continued.

"But what you two are talking about is nuts. It's all going off of assumptions," Jo wasn't convinced, "And you know what happens when people assume."

"Yeah, yeah," Hanson knew the old joke, "You make an ass out of you and me."

"Trust us, Jo," Henry pleaded, "It will work."

"So Lucas uses his horror make-up on you to make it look like you were shot in the head," Jo repeated the plan, "And Hanson and I are supposed to arrest him for your fake murder…"

"Yes," Henry nodded, "He had his eyes on my pocket watch. We introduced ourselves so he knows that my initials are HM… it stands to reason I'd be a target for him. In his deluded mind, for all we know, he might be under the impression he already killed me."

"We could just put you in protective custody until we get him another way, Henry. This plan is too far-fetched. Even for you," Jo was still hesitant.

"That won't do any good," Hanson argued. He knew that Henry was already killed by this psychopath – as hard as it was for him to wrap his mind around that fact – they needed to catch the killer with a live victim, "This will work, Jo. Has Henry ever steered us wrong before?"

"No," Jo knew it to be true, "Okay. Let's go, Hanson. Lucas, just text one of us when you two are done with Henry's dead make-up job."

"Will do, Detective," Lucas saluted.

"Let's get started, Lucas," Henry turned to his assistant once Hanson and Jo left his office. He tapped the spot on his forehead where he was actually shot, "Make the bullet hole here."

"You got it, Doc," Lucas got to work.

* * *

"So, are you two gonna let me know what the hell this is about?" Thomas looked between Jo and Hanson. They were all seated in the interrogation room. Hanson and Jo were seated across from him. Thomas let out a huff, "I already told you that I have nothing to do with those murders of that lawyer and doctor."

"You're not here for _that_ murder," Hanson pushed a file over to Thomas. A picture of Henry with the death make-up fell out of it, "Recognize him?"

"Isn't that the guy that was in my apartment with you?" Thomas raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Jo steeled herself.

"And you think _I_ killed him? What reason could I possibly have for killing a guy I just met?" Thomas defended himself.

"You tell us," Hanson countered, "You've got a little thing going for watches and antiques… Detective Martinez here told me you were a bit in awe at Doctor Morgan's knowledge of some of your collection."

"That doesn't mean I killed him," Thomas shook his head.

Jo opened her mouth to say something else when the lights shut off in the room, "Damn it."

"Maintenance really needs to get on these lights," Hanson commented as he got up and played with the switches. After a moment, the lights came back on and an undead Henry stood by the entrance.

Lucas did a fantastic job with Henry's make-up. Henry looked every bit of a solid ghost – complete with a medically accurate bullet hole in his forehead.

"What the hell?!" Thomas yelled and jumped out of his chair.

"You okay, Thomas?" Jo asked.

"How? That's not how it's supposed to happen… that's not what the watch is supposed to do…" Thomas was rambling.

"What are you talking about, Thomas? What's wrong?" Hanson came around the interrogation table at Thomas now on the ground backing away from an advancing Henry.

"Don't you guys see him?!" Thomas was against the wall now.

"See who?" Jo and Hanson asked. They looked in Henry's direction and then back to Thomas.

"There's nobody in here but us," Hanson said.

"No… no, no, no," Thomas was terrified. Henry stepped even closer to Thomas, cocking his head to the side and reaching out for him. Thomas yelled out, "NO! You can't be here! You're dead! I shot you! I killed you!"

Henry retreated his hand and backed up. Slowly he made his way out of the interrogation room as the lights went out and back on.

"Who did you kill, Thomas?" Jo couldn't believe their insane plan actually worked. They got a confession out of him.

"I killed them. I killed your friend and that doctor and lawyer. I just wanted to live forever… The watch was supposed to help. I'm too scared of dying," Thomas rocked back and forth on the floor.

"Thomas Fairwell, you're under arrest for the murders of Harrison Morton and Harriet Montoya," Jo got up and handcuffed a still shaking Thomas.

Thomas continued to mutter under his breath about how he should never have searched for such an impossible watch in the first place. Jo led him out of the interrogation room and got started on processing his arrest.

Hanson made his way into the observation room to be greeting by a grinning Lucas and Henry wiping off some of the make-up.

"I can't believe that worked," Hanson shook his head.

"Lucas' trick with the lights and the convincing make-up job helped," Henry gestured to his face.

"I think it was Henry's zombie acting that really cinched it," Lucas commented, "Reaching out for him was genius, Doc."

"Yes, well, Abraham has made me watch one too many monster movies over the years," Henry replied.

Jo came in the room with a shake of her head, "That was crazy. I don't know how you knew he would've deluded himself into thinking he actually killed you."

"Sometimes, you just have to trust me, Jo," Henry smiled as he wiped the last of the make-up off. There were still some smudges that a more thorough face wash would take care of later.

"I'm going to get started on this paperwork," Jo started to back out of the room, "I'll see you guys later."

"And I should probably get back to the morgue," Lucas gathered all of his gadgets and monster make-up kit into his arms.

Hanson and Henry were left in the room together. At Hanson's staring, Henry couldn't help but let out an uneasy, "What?"

"Still processing everything," Hanson replied, "But I thought… you should probably have this back."

Hanson reached into his pocket and took out Henry's pocket watch, "I swiped it from Thomas' possessions in evidence before he came down to interrogation. I figured it would spark too many questions as to how he got it from you."

"Thank you," Henry was touched.

"Yeah, well," Hanson shrugged. He was still not too great at that emotional stuff, "I better go help Jo with all the paperwork. Even though it was technically a triple homicide, all the official stuff will mark it only as a double… still a lot of stuff to write."

Henry just nodded.

"See you at home, Henry," Hanson left.

"See you at home," Henry breathed to an empty room.

* * *

"Detective Hanson knows about you now?" Abe had to ask again. Henry came home early to gather everything he put away for Hanson's stay to share his story.

"Yes," Henry replied, "Or at least for the moment, he only knows that I come back from the dead. He doesn't know much else."

"He overheard us the other night," Abe looked apologetic.

"Don't blame yourself, Abraham," Henry knew that look, "Detective Hanson happened to be in the kitchen when we returned from my reawakening. It's just as much my fault as yours. He does seem to be taking it well though."

"Well, let me know if you need your old son's help in any of the story telling," Abe said.

"Will do," Henry gave his son a small smile. Hanson came into view just as Abe made himself scarce.

"You know, part of me was still skeptical about the whole you being murdered last night and living to tell the tale thing," Hanson opened.

"To be expected," Henry replied.

"How many times have you died?" Hanson sat in Abe's chair and Henry took a seat on the adjoining couch.

"If you mean in total, I've honestly lost count," Henry said, "If you mean since I started working with you and Jo… I still sort of have lost count."

"That's quite a few times," Hanson let out an uneasy laugh.

"You're tense," Henry observed.

"It's not every day you learn your friend is immortal," Hanson countered.

"Touché," Henry leaned back. At Henry's more relaxed posture, Hanson followed suit, letting some of the tension roll off of him.

"Why don't you start at the beginning?" Hanson suggested when a few moments of silence passed between the two men.

"For starters, I'm a lot older than I look," Henry began.

"You a grandpa?" Hanson teased.

Henry laughed, "No… not technically. Abe never had any children."

"You're Abe's father?" Hanson's eyebrows went up.

"Yes," Henry replied, "And before you go on, let me just say that I'm a lot older than in my nineties."

Hanson remained silent to let Henry tell his whole story.

"I was born in 1779," Henry revealed, "The first time I was killed was aboard a slave ship called _The Empress Of Africa_ in 1814 by a gunshot to the chest."

"That ship that came up during that one investigation," Hanson connected the dots, "You were actually on it?"

"My first death," Henry nodded, "I still don't know why or how I return in water… I just know that I feel the pain of every death. I just don't stay dead."

"Two hundred years," Hanson let out a whistle, "Next time I complain about my age, you have my permission to give me a smack."

"Will do," Henry smiled, "Ask anything you'd like to know."

"Why don't you tell me more about your watch?" Hanson suggested, "Does it actually make you immortal?"

"I don't think my curse has anything to do with it actually," Henry remarked, "If it had, I might've died long ago. It was lost after my first death at the bottom of the ocean. I didn't get it back until well over a century later."

"Sorry about the goggles and Speedo," Hanson apologized out of the blue.

"I beg your pardon?" Henry didn't understand.

"When you were arrested for skinny dipping," Hanson clarified, "I wanted to apologize for giving you goggles and a Speedo… for teasing you about your swim. If I had known that you had actually _died_ …"

"No need for apologies, Hanson," Henry assured him, "You had no way of knowing."

"Still," Hanson shrugged.

"Apology accepted," Henry knew that's what his friend wanted to hear.

They hit another silence until Hanson broke it, "I'm sure after living for over two hundred years, you probably have quite a few stories. Why don't you tell me some?"

"Some of them can get quite long," Henry said.

"I'm not going anywhere," Hanson leaned back. He felt far more comfortable than he had at the beginning of the conversation, "I'm living here right now, remember?"

"Yes," Henry nodded, "And you're still quite the model houseguest."

Henry and Hanson talked long into the night. It felt good to have another person know about his secret. Maybe in time, Jo would be come to learn about his immortality, but for the time being, Henry was content in knowing he had one more trusting friend in Detective Mike Hanson.

THE END

* * *

A/N: *phew* The characters take on their own life, don't they? This one is my longest Forever story to-date. I hope you guys liked it. I know there are a couple of Hanson reveal stories out there, but I think I had a unique spin on it. Please let me know what you think and leave a review if you can. Don't forget to check out all the other amazing stories for the 'Big Reveal' Ficathon' over on AO3 (and some of them are here too). :)

PS: There's an amazing (relatively) new forum that the amazing kythe42 has created for Forever. It's not very active at the moment, but that can change if you guys register and check it out. It's a lot easier to discuss and keep track of topics over there than on Tumblr. Go check it out if you can! The URL is forever-tv . proboards . com


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